Keith and his Damn Truck Show
by malaccompagne
Summary: But hell, it wasn't supposed to happen like this! She's eighteen, freshly graduated; she should be spending time with her goddamn boyfriend on a beach somewhere, celebrating the last summer of freedom before university! And what really happened?


Natalie smiles a little uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the truck. But seriously, how on _earth_ was she supposed to be able to answer the questions these truck-fanatics pestered her with? If only _Keith _were here...

She sighs. _Keith_. His name seemed to pop up every few seconds in her mind nowadays, the burning in her chest never seeming to get better.

Anger at her own weakness flared up inside her and she kicked the _stupid_ tire of the _stupid_ truck in frustration because everything was so _stupid, stupid, stupid!_ This, of course, did nothing but leave her with a throbbing toe and tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

But hell, it wasn't supposed to happen like this! She's eighteen, freshly graduated; she should be spending time with her goddamn _boyfriend_ on a beach somewhere, celebrating the last summer of freedom before university! And what really happened? She fell in love with a sick kid, and now she's driving his damn truck that he seemed to love more than her all the way to London, _Ontario_ so she could be gawked at by a bunch of no-life truck freaks!

Never-mind that she'd been completely willing to fall in love with Keith and cherish whatever time they _did_ have together. It didn't make his death any easier knowing that she'd signed up for it.

What was the word she'd used before? Oh yeah, _pointless_. Everything had been so _pointless_.

Except that it wasn't, not really. She sighed and slid to the ground, resting her back against the truck's bumper that she remembered helping to put on. That was when she'd barely known Keith, and he'd lied to her about going bowling, like she'd really wanted to go in the first place. They never had gone bowling, in the end. He'd gotten too sick and had spent his last few days either in the hospital or in his bedroom at his house. So much for sky's the limit, she'd thought bitterly as she'd watched him lying there on the hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and needles.

God, and he'd been _so_ pissed off about not being able to go bowling. He'd actually suggested that she go with Rafael instead, because _he_ wasn't a bed-ridden terminal cancer patient... She'd cut him off with a kiss and an eye-roll and resisted the urge to smack him upside the head for his spite.

Of course, Rafael was off in Europe with _Brooke_ now. How her _best friend_ thought that she'd be completely okay with her dumping her boyfriend and going after Natalie's _ex_ was baffling to her. They hadn't spoken since Natalie found out, but judging from their Facebook pictures, they looked like they were having the time of their lives.

_The time of their lives_. If Natalie'd never fallen love with Keith, hell, if she'd refused him as a lab partner from day 1, she'd probably with them having the time of _her_ life. And what was sje doing instead? Oh yeah, sitting in the sweltering heat at a _truck show_.

"Fuck you, Keith," she whispered under her breath. For a moment, she could almost hear him talking back to her, _'You just did, partner'_. The memory of that night surged up from the depths of her mind, that night where she'd lost her virginity in a whirlwind of hormones and teenage angst, that night where Keith had been unbearably cruel to her. Yet somehow, she didn't feel bitter about any of it. In fact, the whole night was surrounded by a hazy glow. She remembered the whispered confessions they'd exchanged while they were making love, though it seemed Keith had forgotten all about them by the time they'd reached her house later. No, it was good memory. A good memory with Keith. A smile crossed her face briefly; almost all her memories with Keith were good.

"Nice truck," a voice beside her said, snapping her out of her reverie. She blinked against the sun towards the owner of the voice, who turned out to be none other than a guy who looked her age that was busy running his hands over the truck, examining it with a critical eye.

"It's not mine," she replied, getting up and brushing herself off. The guy was cute, shaggy brown hair and gentle eyes, muscled, but in a lean way, not bulky.

"Who's is it? Don't tell me you stole this monster!" The smile on his face told her he was just joking. She found herself smiling back at him.

"_Was_. It used to belong to my boyfriend, but the truck doesn't really have an owner anymore."

"Used to?"

"He passed away." She bit her lip, wondering why she'd brought up the subject at all. She peeked a glance at the guy and sighed. The damage was done. His expression was instant contrite, worried if he'd somehow offended her. It was the same expression everyone gave her whenever she mentioned Keith. She'd tried to stop doing it, but it just slipped out most of the time.

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that." The usual words of comfort that everyone said but didn't really mean.

"It's alright. It was a few months ago... I'm still coping, but it's been getting better." In some ways...

The guy sighed. "Well, your boyfriend sure had good taste in automotive mechanics."

Natalie chuckled. "Keith was practically in love with the damn thing," she joked. "I'm sure he settled for nothing but the best. He built this thing from the tires up."

"He seems like a cool dude."

"Yeah. He was." She smiled. _Cool_ was a huge understatement. Keith had been amazing. Stunning. Utterly unique. And _that_ was the reason why she didn't feel a moment's regret. Why she'd driven for hours just to fulfill his last wish at the London, Ontario truck show. He'd loved her and cared about her. And no matter how blunt and possessive he could be, Natalie knew he'd want the best for her after he'd moved on, would want her to try and find happiness with someone else.

So her heart burned only a little when she smiled and gave the guy her name and number, thanking Keith, wherever he was.


End file.
